


Regret

by bookworm03



Series: Adult Relationships [10]
Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Best Friends, F/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:44:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5222084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookworm03/pseuds/bookworm03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben knows he screwed up, but he doesn't regret it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regret

**Author's Note:**

> Post-college AU. Ben and Leslie have been best friends since high school and are struggling to navigate other relationships while they're totally in love with each other. Cliche fun :). This is actually a flashback that occurs during college.
> 
> This is part of a series. It can be read on its own, but I recommend starting with Part 1. 
> 
> This was written specifically at the request of my lovely readers, so I hope this is what you were wanting...enjoy!

She throws her keys down on her desk and stomps around angrily for a few seconds before flinging her winter coat across the room. Her whole face is tomato red, but not from the cold, from the alcohol and the way she’s seething at him, nostrils flaring and steam practically coming out of her ears. She’d shouted at him in the street for fifteen minutes and then stalked the whole way home. 

“You’re a jerk,” she reiterates. Ben throws up his hands and tosses his own jacket onto the pile, too riled up to really appreciate how close he’d probably come to death a few minutes ago. That guy had been massive and totally wanted to pound him into a bloody pulp. 

“Fine, I’m a jerk. But I’m a jerk who can’t leave until the morning, so I’ll go sleep on the couch…” he gestures beyond her dorm room door. The couch in the common room looks like you could contract an infectious disease from it, and someone had warned him it was like sleeping on a wooden plank, but it’s better than her snarling at him all night. 

“It’s _my choice_ who I do or do not have sex with. It’s not the sixteenth century and you are not a land owning male, thank you very much.” 

“Yeah, I got that. Loud and clear, emphasis on _loud_. I’m a jerk who cockblocked you.” 

“YES! You are! You’re a mean jerk and you suck and you ruined my night so thank you for that! It’s my body and what I do with it is _no_ concern of yours.” 

“Well, I’m sorry I was concerned about _injury_ to your body, Leslie! If you want to go be ridiculous then please, go back to the party and screw whoever you want to screw!” 

“I MIGHT!” she opens her cupboard just to slam it shut and then kicks her chair. “I might, because he was….cute and into me!” 

“He looked about forty, weighed three times what you do and was popping E like candy twenty minutes earlier! Real cute, Les.” 

“You’re an ass, Benjamin Wyatt!” she stomps her feet and folds her arms. God, even when she's driving him insane she’s cute. Blackout drunk and furious, the worst thing she thinks to call him is an ass. It’s that thought that makes him soften. 

“Look,” he reaches, grabbing her by the shoulders and finding her eyes. They’re glassy and dull, which just goes to show how drunk she really is. Normally when she’s this angry they’re steely ice and so focused he fears they’ll start shooting lasers. 

“Leslie,” he takes a breath and she slumps under his touch. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry if that seemed like a good idea to you, but I really, really thought you would regret it in the morning. And I know you don’t need me to babysit you or protect you; I know you can more than take care of yourself, but when I saw you…” he winces, recalling what he’d walked in on - her pinned between this bear of a dude and a dresser, getting slammed into it so hard Ben swore it cracked. He’d never wanted to hit someone so badly in his life. 

“I thought he was either going to crush you or rip you in half and I…” 

He tucks a sweaty curl behind her ear, her breathing levelling. Ben had really just wanted to protect her, which was the worst thing he could ever admit to Leslie Knope. 

And he knows she…he knows as right as he feels like he is he had no business storming in there, yelling, and dragging her out by the wrist like a petulant teenager. He knows he fucked up, even if he did it with good intentions. She’s allowed to hate him right now. 

God, being in love really sucks sometimes (especially when it’s not mutual). He’d rather make her furious at him for being a chauvinistic asshole than see her get hurt. 

“When I walked in and he…and then he pushed you…and…I saw red. I’m sorry. It was…instinct.” 

“You owe me sex, Wyatt,” she ignores his admission and shoves him lightly towards the bed. “Take your pants off.” 

The blood drains from his face so fast Ben almost faints. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me," she growls. "I’m having sex tonight and if you’re going to ruin my chance with somebody else then you better sub in. I don’t know why only gross guys are into me right now, but they are, and I’m sick of being the only person on our floor who hasn’t done it, so you’re fucking me. Take your pants off.” 

“Leslie - ”

“You heard me,” her fingers fly to his jeans and good lord, she’s really unbuttoning his pants. He grabs her wrists gently and waits for her to look up. She’s glaring at him, but there's anxiety woven into her gaze. 

“I…I can’t,” he stutters, because he's super into her and really does want to do this, but absolutely not like this. Not even a little bit like this. “I can’t. We can’t do this.” 

“Ben,” she shoves him even harder. He stumbles. God she can be a mean drunk. “You can’t ruin my sex plans and not make up for it. I’m having sex tonight - popping the cherry, getting deflowered, losing my V-card - one way or another, so shut up and _fuck me_ \- ”

Her arms are around his neck suddenly and then her tongue is deep in his mouth, swirling and probing as she bites his lip hard enough he tastes metal. Leslie’s so small he has to bend down and hold her against him. Her hands tug on his hair to keep him close and everything’s firing, every nerve in his body. When she turns him to the bed he lets her, tripping backwards and clutching at her hips. It’s sloppy, bruising and totally unlike how he wanted his first time kissing her to be. He lands on the mattress with a bounce and holds on as she comes to stand between his legs. 

“Leslie, Leslie,” he pants. “Hey, slow down a minute, okay?” 

She’s trembling under his touch - either from nerves or adrenaline - and keeps gulping mouthfuls of air. Ben exhales shakily. He should probably regret this, pulling her lips away from his when it’s basically the only thing he’s wanted for the last eighteen months, but he can’t. She looks…scared.

That makes lump in his throat turn to a brick in his stomach. 

“I…we can’t, I can’t. Not like this.” 

The vulnerability coursing through her snaps and she smacks his chest. “You’re such a jerk - ”

He snaps back. 

“Well, I’m a jerk who’s _not fucking you like this_ , Leslie. Good lord.”

The rage is replaced with tears flooding her eyes. She yanks away. 

“See? Only gross guys want me.” 

God, when had she become this insecure? Recently? How had he not noticed this? Ben tugs her back without warning and flips her over him onto the mattress. His dick is straining hard against his jeans and blood is pounding in his ears, but his head is wonderfully clear. 

“Hey,” he rubs her hip, cradling her against him with one hand and finding her fingers with his other. “I love you,” he kisses her knuckles. Those words are new, but he likes saying them already because a) it’s the truth and b) it feels really natural to do so.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he bumps his chin against her forehead. “If you still…want to in the morning, we can.”

The trembling slows and her thumb starts to stroke the back of his hand. Her eyes are wide, her jaw slack.

“You will?” 

“Yup. If that’s what you want.” 

It’ll probably ruin him emotionally, but he can’t imagine a world where he regrets giving her what she wants or needs. 

“But for right now I think we should…get you in something warmer than this,” he tugs on her ripped, slinky tank top and rubs her bare arm. “And sleep this off.” 

“I have sour gummy worms,” she’s quieter now, muted. Her eyes, her hair, everything about her seems duller. She’s not sparkling. 

“You should eat some gummy worms.” She always has candy hidden in her room. Candy and s’more rations.

 “Probably.” 

Five minutes later his erection has subsided as he fusses over her. She doesn’t cover herself when she strips to her underwear, and he’s staring right at her ass in lacy black panties as she searches for a nightshirt; the bright red welt in the small of her back is more than enough to quell any urges. His fingers itch to smooth over it, but without warning, she sprints out the door with her hand over her mouth only to return looking even paler. When she crawls into bed she drapes over his chest, chewing on a gummy worm as her eyes grow heavy. 

He’s certain she’s asleep when she she starts squirming and pushes up onto her elbows and crinkles her nose. She’s staring at him curiously and he’s staring back, trying to place where her head’s at while her fingers caress the planes of his chest. 

Her lips land on his again, softer than before, but persistent, mouth open and wet and tasting of Listerine as her hand comes up to hold his cheek. It's how he’d always imagined Serious Leslie would kiss. Playful Leslie would be all laughter and teasing, Aroused Leslie would demand him, and Soft Leslie would be all smiles and cuddles and declarations of love. 

Serious Leslie is thoughtful; careful but intent, and definitely not fearful. 

“I love you too,” she whispers, a distinct tremor in her voice when they break. Ben smiles and kisses her forehead, easing her down and draping the blankets over both of them.

Yeah, okay, he’s being protective. He can’t help it. She scared the shit out of him. 

*****

In the morning he wakes up to her small hand patting his stomach. 

“Hey you,” he nuzzles her forehead and his fingers tighten on her. 

“I’m sorry, Ben,” she breathes before his eyes even open. “For last night. You’re not a mean jerk, you were just looking out for me. Please don’t leave now.” 

He thumbs her neck and draws her closer, pulling his other arm around in a full-body embrace. She exhales 

“This is the worst I’ve ever felt in my entire life.” 

“I know,” he presses his lips to her temple and his eyelids finally peel back. The room glows with early morning warmth, veiling the sunny, blonde curls resting on his chest. “Why don’t we shower and I’ll get us some food and we’ll just lie in bed all day and watch movies.” 

_And if you want me to have sex with you now, I’d totally be game, just FYI._

“I don’t even know who that was. Who I am. Is this an identity crisis?” she sighs. “College is weird, I’m not sure I like it sometimes. It’s…so big you'd think everyone would kind of find their niche, but they don’t. It’s easy to get lost. I just…feel insignificant.” 

Leslie Knope, insignificant. How is that not an oxymoron? 

“When I went with…that guy last night I didn’t even think you’d notice.” 

 “Are you kidding?” Ben brushes her hair. They always touch easily, but never this freely. He figures he gets a pass today, since she had her tongue in his mouth a few hours before. “I drove for three and a half hours to see _you_. You, Les, not half of the Indiana University freshman class. You and only you.” 

Her eyes blur with moisture, but the colour is back, the bright, electric blue that makes him wish he hadn’t gone to Notre Dame. The blue he’s stupidly in love with, just like the rest of her. 

“You still owe me sex, by the way.” 

He can’t tell if she’s teasing. 

“You want me to write an IOU?” It’s his turn to tremble. 

“I’d cash in now, but I think I might throw up on you.” 

He chuckles into her skin and shifts so they’re spooning. 

“You were right, I would’ve regretted it.” 

Ben finds her hand, fighting the urge to ball his fists as he flashes to that awful moment again. 

“With him. Not you. Just so you know.” 

Okay yeah, his heart soars at that. Painfully sober she says this, she knows this. He hopes she feels him grinning like an idiot into her neck. 

“Me either. With me, I mean. I wouldn’t…” 

Leslie rolls more abruptly than he thinks her to be capable of and suddenly she’s lying on his arm, staring. 

“Oh,” her fingers brush his cheeks and her eyes slant and darken in a way he’s never seen before. Ben holds his breath while her other hand comes up to cup his face. “You wouldn’t?” 

She props up so she’s hovering over him. 

“No,” his tongue’s swelling, he can barely speak with her gaze on him. “No, god no. Not even a little…Not if that’s what you wanted…” 

Is he saying what he’s trying to say? Is she getting what he’s trying to say? 

“I,” she shuts her eyes and tears slip out in rapid succession. “I am really lucky I have you.” 

“Me too,” he pulls his forehead to hers, as if proximity is enough to will her to understand; to will her kiss him. He wants her to kiss him when it’s not fuelled by rage or an overwhelming desire to get what she wants. He wants her to kiss him because she just really wants to kiss him. He wants to feel her lips against his like that. He wants all of her kisses - Serious Leslie, Soft Leslie, Angry Leslie, Playful Leslie, Aroused Leslie - for himself. 

It’s during this train of thought she throws up again. 

Not on him, thank god. She pushes him so hard he falls to the floor and makes a mad dash for the bathroom. Ben covers his face and snorts when she's gone. Because, his life is pretty ridiculous. 

He gives her a few minutes and then grabs his hoodie before padding into the co-ed bathroom, the sounds of her violently retching echoing through it. Her bright red socks are visible underneath one of the doors and he doesn’t knock. Instead, he squirms under on his belly just as she expels whatever’s still in her stomach (it’s purple and chunky and contains gummy worms) into the toilet with a muffled sob. 

Her face is tear stained when she rests her cheek in his lap. He covers her with the sweater and uses the sleeve to dab her eyes. 

“This is so gross. I might need to stay here all day,” she groans. 

“Okay,” he stretches and flushes the toilet. He’ll stay here with her, that’s fine. 

She sighs and he rubs her hip, pulling the hoodie up to cover her bare shoulder. He wants to kiss her skin - not her mouth currently, because _ew_ \- but definitely her skin. She’s a mess, but she's a cute mess. 

“What if I just get you a bucket? Then you can lie in your bed, because this floor is cold and you have no pants on.”

Leslie giggles for the first time since he arrived the day before. That alone should’ve been enough to tip him off something was wrong. He was so excited to see her, he’d been stupidly unobservant. 

“Come on, buttercup. Let’s go back to bed.” 

“I can’t move,” she whines, rubbing her face into his thigh. “I’ll probably just die here. Bring me a notebook so I can finish my memoirs first.” 

Ben rolls his eyes, snickering as he stands with her balanced awkwardly between his arms. She curls into him reflexively, her nose smashed against his chest. 

“I think I need waffles and more sleep.” 

“I think you do too.” 

“You might be tied with Ann Perkins as my best friend now; you have a different skill set.” 

“Ann would’ve probably punched that guy last night.” 

“I meant carrying me to bed.” 

Ben gives his head a little shake and somehow manages to maneuver her door open. He sets her on her mattress and tucks her in with a forehead kiss. 

“I’m gonna take your keys when I go for waffles, okay? So I can get back in.”

“Kay,” she whispers, eyes half closed already. He squeezes her hand, grabbing a trash pail and sticking a plastic bag in it before he heads out the door. 

*****

She sleeps most of the day and doesn't puke anymore, thankfully. The waffles help (though, not as much as JJ's would, he's informed), and in the early afternoon she's able to stand long enough to take a shower. She returns, the ends of her hair damp, wearing fleece pants and still being swallowed by his hoodie. They play Clue on her bed, him sitting upright with his legs crossed and her sprawled on her side with a pillow propped up against him. She dozes off like that and wakes him at three AM to watch A League of Their Own. She sniffles four times (by his count), and he's pretty sure seeing her do so is what makes him say what he says next.

"What if I transferred?"

Leslie turns and stares at him. "What?" He presses pause.

"Yeah, what if I...came here next semester?" 

“Benjamin Wyatt,” she sits up with a flourish of her hand. “You better be kidding. You got a huge scholarship to Notre Dame and you would lose that and your parents would murder you.” 

“No they wouldn’t.” 

“Um,” she stares at him. “Have you met your parents?”

“Well…if I’m great enough to get a big scholarship then I should be able to transfer no problem, and…” he grunts when she tackles him to the mattress, pinning his arms to his sides. “Ow. What’s happening?” 

He exhales when she burrows against him and hugs tightly.

“You can’t do that, I won’t let you.” 

“IU is a great school.” 

“I’m not letting you transfer," she states definitively. 

“Why not?” 

“You can’t…I can’t believe you would even suggest doing that just so I... That's insane, Benjamin; you would totally regret it.”

He shrugs because he wouldn't. He'd been on the fence about not following her to IU, but everyone had been so excited with his scholarship he felt like he had to say yes. The scholarship is...okay, awesome, but is some extra student debt a reason not to be where he wants to be?

“Beeeeen,” she’s whining cutely. She sounds like herself again. “Promise me you won’t transfer.” 

“Why?”

“You’ll lose your scholarship! And it's _Notre Dame_ , Ben. Think of..." she throws up her hands dramatically. "Think of…your parents. Henry! Henry will tell you you’re being crazy. Don't make me call your brother. 

“And if I do it anyway?" 

“I will be mad and smack you and then probably kiss you because that would be crazy and ridiculous and really, incredibly sweet," her eyes are burning with warmth now. The knot that he'd been carrying in his chest all day loosens.

“Is that supposed to de-incentivize me?” he quips. She stares at him; his heart’s in his throat, but he swallows it back down.

"You can't transfer, Benjamin."

"What if - "

"No," she states firmly. "No, okay? Not allowed. You can't do that just because I'm having a rough semester. I'll survive. It's an adjustment and I'm homesick, but I'm not a baby and it would be incredibly selfish of me to let you do that." 

"I'm not gonna do it because you're having a rough semester, I'm doing it because you said you'd kiss me if I did." 

She cackles into his arm and Ben grins, unable to hide his immense relief at hearing her laugh like that. He misses hearing that every day and he'd certainly missed it over the last thirty-six hours. 

He wouldn't regret transferring, that much he knows. How could he regret something that meant more time with her, around her, just existing with her like this? 

No, the only thing there is to regret with Leslie is something that could cost him her - her love, her friendship, whatever part of herself she wanted to give him, he wanted, and if anything he did ever ruined that... 

Ben didn't think he could live with himself. 


End file.
